More Iles des Saintes

12.06.12

 

Fort Napoleon

 

Fort Napoleon's walls

 



Dave was a little hot after walking up the hill

 

Jan, Dave and I trekked the kilometer up the hill to the beautifully restored Fort Napoleon.  Lots of historical information on view including drawings and paintings of the battle of Iles des Saintes where the British fleet destroyed the French fleet in 1762. 

 

View from the fort

As the guide book states, every view from the top of the walls is a picture post card view.  Surrounding the fort is a well-tended garden of cacti that attracts hummingbirds and iguanas.  As we began our return to town, we spied one such iguana standing as a sentinel on top of the wall.  

Green sentinel



St. Pierre, Martinique to Iles des Saintes, Guadalupe

12.02.12



Un chat blanc not worried at all about the volcano

On Friday morning we checked out of Martinique in St. Pierre, stopped by the lovely vegetable market, visited the local museum and the ruins of the theater and jail where the lone survivor of the 1902 eruption of Mt. Pelee dwelled.  Such an staggering event.  Mt. Pelee is not extinct but dormant.  She is expected to erupt again in 100 to 200 years.  The beautiful young museum docent told us that because Mt. Pelee may erupt again, many people will not move to this end of Martinique.  It is interesting to note that the population in 1902 was nearly 30,000 and now it is 5,000. 

 

Dave and I prepared the boat for sail and left along with Celtic Rover and Alibi at around 4:00pm for an overnight sail.  Other than the lazy jacks (lines that contain the dousing main sail) breaking and two bolts shearing that hold one side of the dinghy davits, it was an uneventful sail.  This is good.  We fortunately missed the squalls and 30 knot winds that Alibi encountered just a couple of nautical miles ahead of us.  We got by with the highest wind of 24 knots and light rain. 

The only other difficulty was trying to figure out the course of a large ship.  The radar showed that it was to the right of my mast, but my eyes showed that it was to the left of my mast.  This had never happened before.   Plus it was getting closer.  I turned the boat to starboard about 15 degrees.  Still the large ship got closer.  Finally when it was less than a kilometer away, the AIS showed its MMSI number.  I hailed it using this number and asked, “Do you see me?”  The captain said that he did not, so I told him that I would turn on more lights.  I turned on every exterior light that we had and asked him again, “Do you see me now?”

 “Yes, I see you and we are passing,” he responded. 

Whew.  I still don’t understand why this happened but will investigate on our next journey during the day. 



The village, Bourg de Saintes is on the left.  Wayward Wind is the dark-hulled boat at the bottom. 

We are now in Iles des Saintes, which is a group of small islands to the south of and belonging to the country of Guadalupe.  The town, Bourg de Saintes on Terre de Haute, is about as quaint as you could imagine.  Everything is small, old, freshly painted and clean.  The main street is edged with boutiques, restaurants, and boulangeries with beautiful original local art, nothing tacky.  The people are friendly and helpful.  The main street is blocked off from motorized vehicles making it perfect for a stroll.  What makes this town different than other tourist areas is that the locals obviously take pride in their town and work and shop at the same businesses as the tourists such as the grocer and the boulangeries.  Also two blocks from the town center is the local elementary school.  I was impressed with the number of bicycles out front, which is how I remember my elementary school yard back when children were not chauffeured in SUVs. 



Children ride their bikes to school.  What a concept!


Nice elementatry school

 

Dave and I decided to have a gallette (crepe) for breakfast and stopped by a tiny spot with one table out front.  I practiced my French with Sarah, the cook, who practiced her English with me.  I asked her how she came to live in Iles des Saintes.  She said that in France she was an energetic teacher of sports who was tiring of her students’ attitudes.  She then did a perfect impression of the universal teen-age apathetic slouch and mumbled, “I don’t want to run.” 

“I know exactly what you mean!” said I.  We nodded our heads with a complete school teacher understanding of each other and laughed.

One day, two years ago, she said to herself, “Sarah, you are 40 years old and this is not good.”  She asked her school for the following year off to travel.  She crewed on sailboats across the Atlantic, through the Panama Canal, to the Galapagos Islands and back to the Caribbean.  One day while walking down the street in Iles des Saintes, she thought to herself, I would like to live here, so at the first stop, the creperie, she asked the owners if they needed any help.   The owners said, “Yes,” and she got the job here for six months.  Several months into it and obviously pleased with her, the owners asked her to stay another six months.  She didn’t know if her school would allow her another year off, but it did.  She said, “I am from Brittany and now it is cold and rainy.  Here I work in fresh air, meet interesting people, and swim every day.”  Une joie de vivre is clearly alive and well in Sarah. 

Along with the joy of life in France is the joy of food.  Again baguettes, croissants – real buttery, flakey croissants – wine, fabulous buttery cheeses and perfect pastries are plentiful.  Already I feel the pounds mounting. 

This morning, Darrell came over and went up the mast to repair our lazy jacks.  The ferry from Guadalupe frequently comes by making a hellava wake.  Riding one such wake, the intrepid Darrell clung to the mast as he tipped back and forth many feet till the roll subsided.  Darrell expertly took care of that job.  Thanks, Darrell!

Hang on, Darrell!  (this still photo does not depict how much he was being slung to and fro)

For our lunch break, Dave and I dinghied into town on a baguette mission.  It being Sunday, we knew that it was risky.  We went to the boulangerie where only one clerk worked behind the counter and all of the eight or so patrons were quietly standing back away from the counter.  Had they already been helped?  Was there a line in which we should wait?  It was a bit of a mystery, but not wanting to appear rude, we waited among the others.  After fifteen minutes, with not a lot of action, we opted to head to the grocery store in search of the baguette.  Alas no baguettes were to be had.  BUT on the way back to the dinghy, we spotted a woman standing behind a small table covered in a floral cloth upon which beckoned three baskets containing lovely pastries – long ones stuffed with fish, fluffy ones stuffed with crab, and big ones stuffed with coconut or guava.  We like variety so got some of each.  A perfect though high caloric lunch for two for about eight bucks US.  So a baguette tomorrow.  C’est la vie!

Darrell working in an inconvenient location, the starboard lazarette, to add new bolts to the davits

Darrell returned to WW in the afternoon to help us repair the dinghy davit arch.  He had an idea to improve it so as not to have the same problem again.  That job went smoothly.  Again, thanks, Darrell!  When doing a project, you must bring out the tools that are stored in various places such as under the settees in the salon.  Within minutes, the boat is turned upside down in the pursuit of a large crescent wrench.  When the job is completed, it takes about an hour to clean up and put all of the tools away.  Once that’s done, then the job is done.  Today I got a lot of fiberglass on me that was scratching me like crazy.  The solution was to don my swim suit and jump into the sea.  Ahhhh, it did the trick and just in time for sundown viewing.  Life is good. 

Cooked up a frittata made with local squash and goat cheese accompanied by a green salad with avocado.  YUM!

 

 

Mt. Pelee Teases Us

12.01.12

Mt. Pelee peaks through

Perhaps it was the wispy cloud veil obscuring her face that piqued our curiosity, but beckon us, she did.  On Thursday we found ourselves on the local bus wending our way up a flank of Mt. Pelee.  Though warm when we left, by the time we got to the end of the bus line, the temperature had dropped noticeably as we entered the lower layer of clouds. 

 

Trekkers

We walked a kilometer or two to the end of the road then, still in the clouds, started walking up the path.  We still had another kilometer and a half to the top.  We asked a young French couple clad  in sturdy hiking boots tromping down the path how it was.  The young woman said, “Ard.” 

“Oh, hard,” we responded. 

 She then looked at Darrell’s flip-flops and commented in plain English, “You are crazy.”

We got the message.  We weren’t quite prepared for this trek.  Ah, well.  We justified not continuing by the fact that we were completely fogged in and would have no view.  We’ll just have to come back, we decided.  Still and all, it was a wonderful walk with fantastic views along our way of the Atlantic on one side and the Caribbean on the other.

There's the Atlantic!

We walked back down to the bus stop and waited.  And waited.  No bus.  We walked the two kilometers into Morne Rouge, the last town on the route.  No bus. 



School kids in the town of Morne Rouge

We continued walking through town.  No bus.  We walked on the narrow two-lane curvy road for about four kilometers.  No bus. 

Still walking and hoping for a bus!

Bruce, who said his calves were as tight as hardballs said, “I’m calling a taxi.”  He and I walked up to a home with two hulking chained-up dogs that, judging by their barking and snarling, did not take a liking to us.  A shirtless man in shorts with a towel draped over his shoulders came out. 

Bruce said, “Bon Jour” and turned to me.  My turn.  I asked the man if he had a phone and that we needed to call a taxi for six people to St. Pierre.  He said a few things that I didn’t really understand, and then I figured out that he was offering to take us in his van.  His wife, who spoke a bit of English, came out.  I asked her about the bus and she said it does not run in the afternoon.  Apparently, what goes up does not come down après midi, after lunch. 

The man put wooden benches in his van for us and off we zigzagged the last six kilometers down the road to St. Pierre.  As it always does when traveling, it all worked out.  That night, we all slept well, in spite of our aching calves.   

Au revoir, Mt. Pelee

 

Au revoir, Mt. Pelee.  You had your fun with us.  BUT, to paraphrase our famous former California governor in another of his roles, “We’ll be baaaaahk.”

 

Dave enjoying the view of the anchorage

 

Ste. Anne to St. Pierre

11.29.12

Dave seems to have the fishing luck, and though the fish are small, they are tasty.  Yesterday on our way from Ste. Anne to St. Pierre, luck struck again.  Because the wind had virtually died, we were motor sailing and were about three miles off of St. Pierre.  I’d just made our lunch as we would soon put down the sails and anchor.  Just after I’d brought up the sandwiches, Dave exclaimed, “Wow!  Looks like a school of tuna!”  Just off of our starboard were good-sized fish jumping.  Sure enough a few moments later, zing went the line.  Dave reeled in not a tuna but a small mahi mahi. 



St. Pierre from the anchorage

After we’d anchored, ate our sandwiches, cleaned the fish and the saltwater off of the portholes and hatches and covered the sails, Darrell and Anne picked us up in their dinghy to explore the town.  Several months back, they’d stopped here on their way south to clear in and had fallen in love with St. Pierre so were excited to show us the town.

A rare glimpse of Mt. Pelee unveiled

Throughout the nineteenth century, St. Pierre was a bustling, cultural center known as the Paris of the Caribbean, but in 1902, Mt. Pelee had other plans for the city that sat at her foot.  In February of that year, the mountain began rumbling and on various days rolled out molten lava flows that killed several in the outlying areas and even wiped out one of the most prominent plantations and its wealthy owners.  Years before, in 1658, as the white settlers annihilated the last of the Carib natives, the Caribs cursed their slayers requesting that Mt. Pelee shower the settlers with her wrath.  And, as things would happen “on island time,” a few hundred years later, Mt. Pelee granted the Caribs’ wish.  On May 8, Mt. Pelee unleashed her power.  Glowing red on her side, she exploded a mighty fireball of noxious gas over the town of St. Pierre killing all of its 30,000 residents but one – a prisoner in a stone cell, Cyparis, who later joined Barnum and Bailey’s circus.. 



Remains of the theater and...
 

Cyparis' cell where he survived the volcano

Out of the ash and destruction arose a new city built on the remnants of stone walls and foundations that survived.  Today St. Pierre recalls a French town of built during the 1920s.

 

Rodin's homage to the rebirth of St. Pierre

 

Lovely deco buildings and street lamps amongst the 18^th and 19^th century stone walls.  The backdrop is a steep cliff wall covered in lush greenery.  And beyond that, to the north, sits cloud-capped Mt. Pelee.  We’ve yet to see her peak.  Maybe she is now resting.  Let’s hope she does not awaken for some time.

A nice apartment building

A new wal built off of the old wall.  So much is preserved.

A new building modeled after the old building

The remodeled cathedral

As we walked through town, we came upon the ruins of Abby Gosse.  Darrell, a retired mason, particularly appreciated the handsome stone and brick work. 

Arches of Abbe Gosse

Darrell explains the masonry to Anne

We found a patisserie where we bought juice and baguettes then walked across the street where we rested on a shady step in front of the casket maker.  A very peaceful place to partake a snack.

Dave figuring out where he is

 

 

 

 



Ste. Anne, Martinique



The Titons, southwest coast of St. Lucia

 

On 11/23, we left Wallilabou, St. Vincent and traveled past St. Lucia only stopping in Rodney Bay for the night where we heard the loudest amplified music ever.  Along the way, Dave caught a mahi mahi as did Bruce on Celtic Rover, right about the same time as each other.  Maybe it was a school.



Thank you, Mahi Mahi!

We then had another fantastic sail on 11/24 where we met our friends, Darrell and Ann and Roxy, the wonder dog, on Alibi in Sainte Anne, Martinique   We've enjoyed the small town of Ste. Anne the past few days. It is within a two-mile dinghy ride to Le Marin, the largest boating center on Martinique where we were able to buy a few things for the boat and get water...for one Euro cent a liter -- the best bargain yet!

Sunday evening in Sainte Anne

On Sunday, we walked around the town in the late afternoon and early eve. In the town square, a local raggae fusion band and then a cool jazz band performed, all before the backdrop of the church built in 1824. Yesterday morning, Ann and I took Roxy for a walk up the path behind the church that depicts the fourteen stations of the cross as it zig zags up the hill to a small shrine. Ann and I practiced our French translating the descriptions at each station. As we climbed, the view of the bay was stunning.  (I forgot my camera, but will beg a photo from Ann.)  It's nice to be in a French department again. People have been friendly and the cheese...Ooh la la!

In a bit, we will leave Ste. Anne for St. Pierre in the north. Tomorrow we plan to check out of Martinique there, enjoy the village, then leave sometime after midnight to arrive in Iles des Saintes off the south end of Guadalupe.  Au revoir!

Wallilabou, St. Vincent

On 11/21, we left Petit Saint Vincent and had a beautiful sail to the Tobago Cays.  Dave caught a small black fin tuna, which was delicious.  Thank you, Black Fin.

Gaffing the black fin. 

Waterfalls at Wallilabou

Wild Ginger

We stopped at Young Island Cut, where we checked out of St. Vincent because we didn't think we could check out at Wallilabou, our next stop.  Dave and I walked up to the water falls where we enjoyed a dip in the pool.  Saw some wild ginger growing in the wet rocks.  So that's how it grows!

Later that evening, we enjoyed our Thanksgiving dinner at the Wallilabou Anchorage Restaurant.  We all had a creole dish, fish or pork, with rice and plantain, eggplant and callilou fritters.  Yum!  As mentioned on the way down, this is where parts of Pirates of the Caribbean was filmed and many of the film's artifacts are on display at the restaurant.  It's easy to see why this lush scenic location was chosen.  You can't imagine a more beautiful setting. 



Wallilabou

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sandy Island and PSV

Off of Sandy Island

11.18.12

5:30 am

Rain tap-dances on the deck.  Wayward Wind gently rocks.  Radio crackles as some ship’s captain hails the Grenada Port.  Black sky turns to gray as dawn arrives punctuated by others’ anchor lights.  The day begins.

Early morning after the rain fall at Sandy Island

 

Early Tuesday morning, we left Mt. Hartman Bay, rounded the southwest corner of Grenada and headed north with buddy boats Celtic Rover and Alibi.  The wind was right on the nose and we were happy that WW pointed better than she ever had before owing to the fact that the seas were fairly mild with no “wave-stoppers.”  When we were in the lee of the tall Grenada mountains, the wind died down so we motor-sailed a bit.  Just beyond the small, rounded rock island known as Kick’em Jenny where the waters are often turbulent, Jenny was kind to us making it easy to land a jumpy little bonito, which made a tasty meal later that evening.  Thank you, bonito.

Thank you, bonito.

 

We anchored in Tyrrel Bay, Carriacou, for the night then rounded the point and picked up a mooring at Sandy Island not far from the town of Hillsborough.  Aptly named Sandy Island is a small stretch of white sand dotted with palms and protected on its windward side by a long berm of coral piled about four feet high.  Apparently several years ago, Sandy Island was almost washed away by Hurricane Lenny.  Subsequently locals planted trees and beach plants which may be all that are holding the island together.  At mid-day, Darrell on Alibi made a call out to the dozen moored boats to invite everyone to a little beach BBQ that afternoon.  We re-met the Finnish couple we’d met at Halloween, Arja and Henrik on Serena.  And yes, they did sail her from Finland.  In fact, on their boat card is a photo of Serena blanketed with snow and the caption, “Our start from Finland!”  Henrik strummed the guitar and sang a perfect Eagles' “Peaceful, Easy Feeling” among other songs while we all enjoyed the sunset and each other’s company in this magical setting.

Beach BBQ

 

Serena at anchor, all the way from Finland

The next day we snorkeled the reef on the windward side of the island.  Saw a juvenile yellow and black striped juvenille spotted drum fish swishing its long upper and lower fins as if doing a mesmerizing scarf dance.   Here's a link, if you're inclined to look:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sciaenidae



Sandy Island with Union Island in the background

The day before yesterday, we motored over to Petite Martinique (PM), the third main island of the country of Grenada, but the anchorage was crowded with lovely, well-maintained fishing boats, so we wandered a half-nautical mile across to Petit St. Vincent (PSV), part of the country of St. Vincent and the Grenadines.  PSV is privately owned by an exclusive though visually low-key resort, so from our viewpoint, ‘twas another lovely beach setting anchorage.  Apparently the resort has stone cottages nestled among the palms, and to summons room service, the guests hoist a flag.  Cruisers and others are allowed on the grounds to stroll and dine. 

Resort on Petit St. Vincent

 After we dropped anchor, we dinghied back to Petite Martinique for a little provisioning.  For some unknown reason, PM sells alcohol at low prices.  So we replenished our rum and vodka stores as well as fresh tomatoes.  Our friends got cases of Hollandia beer for 20 bucks each, which is a good deal here.  

It rained on and off all day

 Yesterday morning, Ann and Darrel took off for an overnight sail straight to Martinique.  As mentioned earlier, several islands have overly stringent rules regarding dogs, so Alibi must bypass these islands.  Thanks to an abundant adoration of pets, fortunately the French islands are dog-friendly.  Alas within an hour of their departure, their main halyard broke so down fell their main sail causing them to return to this relatively calm anchorage for the repair.  We had an extra line so after making a tricky eye splice, Darrel went up the mast to repair the halyard.  So they leave a day later.  So what.

Darrell up the mast to replace a broken halyard on Alibi

 Late in the afternoon, a boldly colored local motor boat cruised by with several Rastafarian types.  “Must be the band,” says I.  Sure enough, not long after dusk, the marimba band began playing easy-listening tunes calypso style that later lulled us to sleep.  The day ends. 

 

Rastafarian band (sorry about the blurriness)

 

Good night